


ask again later

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mission Fic, Post-Break Up, Rebelcaptain Secret Santa, Rebelcaptain Secret Santa 2020, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: After some time apart, Jyn and Cassian have managed to construct a working partnership that holds up; even if it always feels a little wobbly and unsteady to her, constantly threatening to collapse if tested.But there’s no one to blame for that but herself.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 24
Kudos: 105
Collections: The RebelCaptain Network Secret Santa Exchange





	ask again later

**Author's Note:**

  * For [woahpip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahpip/gifts).



> A gift for **woahpip** in the 2020 Rebelcaptain Secret Santa Exchange. The prompt was for a canonverse fic where Jyn and Cassian are broken up, but still work as partners, and then get back together. 
> 
> Happy New Year, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Jyn knew what she was doing when she went behind Cassian’s back. She understood that he wouldn’t be able to forgive her for it—so, in terms of cause and effect, she was the one who ended things. 

Anyone who sets a fuse expects destruction to follow. 

“You’re shitting me.” Jyn looked up into the flat white glow of Kay’s ocular sensors. She wished she could pretend she hadn’t heard him, but his buzzing speech had been more than loud enough to cut through the noise bouncing off the icy walls of the corridor.

“Your vulgarity doesn’t offend me, Jyn Erso, but I don’t understand that idiom. Do you want me to repeat General Draven’s message?” Kay’s dark metal frame stood out against the icy walls, and he had to.

“No, I heard you fine, I just don’t believe it. Why—” she cut herself off with another curse. Kay knew perfectly well what she was objecting to; he’d observed the swift implosion of her and Cassian’s relationship a year ago, though she had no idea what Cassian might have told him about it in private. Probably nothing, because she couldn’t imagine Kay keeping his peace and not criticizing her relentlessly if he knew.

“What’s my landing window on Rishi?” she asked instead. 

There wasn’t any point in arguing with Kay; he wasn’t the one issuing these orders. And while she’d happily shout at Draven, experience had taught her that it was better to pick her battles when it came to the General. To give him (limited) credit, she didn’t think he’d have assigned her to do this if there was any reasonable alternative. He’d listened to her when she’d requested not to work with Cassian for a while. 

“Between 8 and 12 standard hours from now. Your assigned ship is the _Pride of Alderaan_ , in berth Six-One-Osk.” Kay turned with a precisely graceful spin on one long leg and began stalking away from her, stooping to avoid scraping the dome of his head against the roof.

“Any other surprises?” she called after him, still annoyed. 

“I hope not,” his voice carried back to her. “Cassian doesn’t like surprises.”

Jyn snorted. That was an understatement. Cassian wasn’t likely to appreciate her showing up to extract him any more than she wanted to be the one doing it. Even if, after some time apart, they’d managed to construct a working partnership that held up, it always felt a little wobbly and unsteady to her, constantly threatening to collapse if tested. But there was no one to blame for that but herself. 

At least it would be a short trip. 

Jyn hadn’t made her decision lightly. She’d thought about it night after night, lying awake beside Cassian, feeling the tension in his body, the way he trembled and sweated even in dreams. 

She didn’t want to crush this slow-blooming thing that had started growing between them while she was in stasis, waiting to see if he would recover. To be fair to them, Mothma and Draven had offered her what they’d first promised, a ship and her freedom—but she’d hesitated, unable to leave without knowing what became of the Death Star plans. Or of the rest of Rogue One’s survivors, especially Cassian. And by the time it was clear he wouldn’t die, she’d been caught: tangled in a web of obligations and emotions, enlisted back in the cause she’d told herself she’d never fight for again.

Of course, she’d already broken that promise by going to Eadu, let alone Scarif. But she could still have returned to something like her old life, even within the Rebellion, if she hadn’t let the people matter to her as well. 

And Cassian’s life was worth more than his trust in her—there was no question of that. 

“What in the name of the Force possessed you to land in a port about to go into lockdown?” Cassian muttered. 

Jyn kept herself from startling, at least enough for anyone else in this dim cantina to tell, though of course Cassian would have noticed her barely restrained twitch. He’d sidled up to her seat at the bar so smoothly that she’d missed him despite keeping her head on a swivel watching for his approach.

“Hello to you too,” Jyn said evenly, gripping her cup tightly along with her temper. She took another sip of sweetish distilled sap. “I was told to come fetch you. If you have a problem with the timing, take it up with our mutual friend.”

“Sorry.” She felt rather than heard his sigh in the way his arm slid down against hers. Resisting temptation, she stayed upright instead of leaning into him or nudging him with her elbow like a friend. “I tried to send a message cancelling the pickup, but obviously it didn’t get through.”

She shrugged. “It happens. What now?”

“I can’t go back to where I was staying. We either wait on the ship or find a room to hole up in. Nobody knows how long the lockdown is going to be, but my money’s on at least overnight. There’s been some… unrest in the city they’re trying to smother.”

Wasn’t that just fucking perfect. “I wonder why,” she muttered, and felt Cassian shift away from her. 

“I vote for the ship,” Jyn said grimly, trying to restrain her frustration. It would mean crossing back over the single bridge across the deep gorge that split the city of Abriona, the choke point that made it easy for the Empire to control almost all the traffic in and out of this place. And during a lockdown, that probably wouldn’t be easy. But it would get them one step closer to leaving once ships were cleared for takeoff again, and it was better than being stuck with Cassian in a seedy rented room intended for stolen, illicit hours. 

She slid off her stool and raised a finger to let the bar droid know she was clearing her tab. “I’ll go first, you can follow me,” she told Cassian without looking at him. 

“Be careful,” he said, pointlessly, and she snorted. It wasn’t like Cassian to say something meaningless, and besides, when wasn’t she?

“I mean it.” His quiet voice dropped another notch in volume, and she had to tip her head closer to hear him over the clanging of the local band. “I had a tail earlier that I managed to shake, but I don’t like the feel of this place. Watch your back.”

“I always do,” she said. Cassian’s mouth pressed into a tighter line and he turned away from her until all she could see of him was a half-hidden frown. She tossed a credit chip at the droid and left.

The first time she’d seen him awake in the medbay Cassian had asked, carefully neutral, when she planned to leave. When she’d told him she wasn’t going to, the disbelieving joy on his face strung her heart tight. He reached toward her and hesitated, stopping halfway. She held her breath and slipped her hand around his. It had been so easy to let herself be pulled, unresisting, deeper into the current of… whatever it was that ran between them. 

They didn’t talk about it. In Jyn’s case, that was because she was terrible with words and didn’t want to fuck things up. She didn’t know if it was the same with Cassian, or if his reticence was habit ingrained from years of keeping secrets. 

Sometimes she was convinced that didn’t matter: when they were curled together on his bed, breathing in the same rhythm, or when they fell into a different kind of synchronicity on the shooting range; when Cassian smiled at her, that bright flash of happiness that made her blink as though she were staring at the sun.

But she should have known better. As Cassian started to talk about going back into the field, as she listened to him catch his breath and fight through agony with each unassisted step, a sick ripple of foreboding ran through her. He wasn’t ready, and he wouldn’t see it. She tried hinting, and when that didn’t work she told him outright that he wasn’t fit for active duty. That led to their first fight, and a day of frigid silence. 

Despite Jyn’s dismissive words, she trusted Cassian—or at least, she trusted his instincts—so she kept a careful watch as she fastened her jacket and headed down the muddy street. 

The rain had started up again in the brief minutes she was inside the cantina, a fine misty drizzle that was awful for visibility. It left the few lights dim and fuzzy like watercolour and deepened the shadows surrounding them, as well as dampening sound until it would have been difficult to hear a herd of banthas following her. On the other hand, the weather would ground most surveillance mini-drones, so that was a plus. Jyn didn’t want to put up her hood and cut off her peripheral vision, so she just wrapped her scarf tighter and kept moving quickly. The mud sucked at her boots, water finding its way in through patchy waterproofing at the seams, and she grimaced as her socks began to feel soggy.

She kept off the main avenue toward the bridge and took the side streets. It was still five minutes before she was certain someone was keeping pace with her. Cassian was right, whoever was following them was good—and there was probably more than one. By then she was almost to the intersection where she’d have to turn toward the single gatehouse allowing bridge traffic. She slowed down, just slightly, hoping Cassian was close behind her and ready to cover her. If she couldn’t rely on him to do that, they had bigger problems.

A longer than usual patch of darkness stretched ahead, where a blocky warehouse with few exterior lights loomed on the river side of the street. If her followers were half as smart as they seemed, they were probably planning to use this part of the route for an ambush; they’d want to stop her and Cassian before they got across the bridge. 

Jyn decided to fast forward things.

She broke into a run, sprinting straight ahead for a few strides to build up speed, and then cut sharply sideways into a dark, narrow alley. It probably led to some kind of cargo loading structure on the cliffside. It was also a logical place for an attacker to be set up waiting. 

And sure enough, there they were, a moving patch of darker shadow that had to be at least a half a metre taller and twenty kilos heavier than Jyn. Karking hell, why did she always get the big ones? 

She ducked low under its first blow and went for the knees, or at least the general vicinity of where most humanoid species had some form of leg joint. Luckily, as with the ambush location, she’d guessed correctly and hit the right spot with the full force of her kick. With a grotesque crunch, the limb folded backward—and from the howl of pain, it wasn’t supposed to bend that way. Number One (because there was at least one more, Jyn was sure) dropped into the mud, groaning, and Jyn kicked its head while it was down there and easily within her reach. 

Then she slipped past and ran, the mud sucking at her feet. It was thicker here and smellier, enough to make her eyes water. But if she kept pushing, digging in for longer strides and leaping from puddle to puddle as fast as she could, she might be able to circle around the building and to the bridge by the other lane. If her luck held out and they didn’t have someone posted there waiting, if they were just a little slower than her—

They weren’t. Jyn barrelled around the corner and crashed into the other half of the ambush. And although Number Two was smaller, so that her momentum knocked them over, they were also faster: fast enough to grab at her muddy boot as she struggled to her feet. 

Jyn rolled, ignoring the disgusting mud that instantly soaked through the seat of her trousers, and kicked again. But they’d already shifted their grip too. A hot line of pain seared across the back of her thigh. They had a knife, and they’d nearly hamstrung her with it. 

She rolled over in the other direction, twisting desperately, trying to reach the blaster holstered on her thigh. She kicked out again with both feet even though it made the slice through her left leg burn. Number Two’s head snapped back. It growled and swept the knife through the air again, snagging on her jacket but missing her shoulder as Jyn jerked away. Its other hand slashed down toward her neck with a gleam of metal, and Jyn realized too late that she’d fallen for a feint—fucking Force, she was about to die in this pfassking shitty puddle of mud. A sharp blow to her throat and she choked, air wheezing through her windpipe. Feebly she smacked at Two’s arm. It stiffened, head snapping sideways, and slowly rolled off her. 

Jyn lay on her back fighting to breathe. Her neck throbbed with white-hot pain. She dragged one hand up to her throat to apply pressure, expecting to find warm blood streaming from her death wound. Nothing there except a small nick on her collarbone. Had the knife slipped and only scraped her instead of opening an artery? And why wasn’t Two getting up to finish the job and run away? She hadn’t hit it nearly hard enough to disable or kill.

Running footsteps slapped through the mud toward her. Jyn’s head felt cemented to the ground by mud, but she managed to roll it in that direction. Two’s body lay beside her, and just past it, a shadow raced toward her that had to be Cassian.

 _Oh_. Of course. Cassian had caught up and shot Two from his following position; that was why it hadn’t managed to finish her off. 

He dropped to his knees beside her, his outline blurred by the misty rain, and bit out, “Status?”

It was almost farcical, like a coincidence in a comedy; as she left Draven’s office, she met Cassian in the corridor. Her guilty face combined with the summons from his superior officer must have been enough to tell him what she’d done. The instantaneous look of betrayal that flashed over his face before his expression iced over hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, the kind that stole the oxygen from your lungs so suddenly it was shocking.

She went straight to Cassian’s assigned quarters, the ones he’d actually spent time in over the last few weeks, instead of the usual nomadic routine he’d told her about: sent from base to ship to mission and on and on. Where he’d be staying for longer now, thanks to her having informed Draven he wasn’t fit to go back out there yet. Cassian would probably have been able to fool the doctors and talk Draven into ignoring the danger signs, but with Jyn arguing against it she didn’t think even Draven would let Cassian go. He might be a demanding superior officer, but he wasn’t going to risk killing his best agent by sending him out when he wasn’t at full capacity—not unless or until the cost was worth it. 

The door opened at Jyn’s touch, because Cassian trusted her. Because they’d been together long enough for her to help him with his physiotherapy. For her to let the way she felt about him leak out into the way she watched him, talked to him, and for him to pick up on that and respond. For the two of them to hold on to each other in the way she’d been wondering about in the back of her head ever since Jedha. It had seemed inevitable at the time, and still Jyn had known that it couldn’t last. Something would break their fragile bubble—she just hadn’t expected to shatter it herself. 

She shook her head, impatient with her own grief, and went in for the last time. She still had her own assigned space on the ship, of course, and there weren’t many of her things here—just enough that it would be awkward to come back for them later, or find them dumped in a bag outside the door. She gathered up her scarf and a few extra shirts and shook out the blankets to ensure nothing else was left behind, not even a hair tie. 

That was it. But before she left, she couldn't help taking one last look around the plain room. There was absolutely nothing special about it; it was only the memory of Cassian’s welcome that made it feel like home to her. She’d learn to do without it. She knew she could; nothing and no-one she cared about had ever lasted. Jyn had been alone for more of her life than she’d been part of a family, a team, a couple… this was just going back to normal. She’d be fine. 

Jyn coughed, her hand scrabbling at her scarf, and managed to croak out, “Thought they stabbed me—throat.”

Cassian’s fingers pushed hers aside. He yanked her scarf away, ripped her jacket open and quickly, deftly, palpated her neck from earlobes to collarbone. “Just a scratch,” he said. The relief in his voice resounded like music. 

She tried to smile at him but her mouth felt rubbery. There were two Cassians hovering above her now, haloed by the mist, faintly superimposed just off-centre. She squinted, trying to combine them into one, but that made her head throb. “Don’ feel good,” she said, slow and clumsy, slurring the words. 

Cassian frowned and ran his hands gently over her skull. “Did you hit your head when you fell?” 

“No.” Jyn had been concussed before, and it hadn’t been like this. She tried to sit up and listed to one side; her muscles were limp as wet paper. Cassian caught her before she could fall back into the mud. 

“What’s this?” He picked up a shiny metal tube, about the size of a code cylinder, from the mud next to her.

It was a hypospray, an empty one. Jyn blinked. Two hadn’t stabbed her, they’d injected her with something. Fuck. She started counting all the poisons she knew that could kill inside a few minutes. But that seemed like a lot of trouble—please, let it be just a sedative, something to make her easier to subdue...

Cassian shoved the tube in his pocket, grabbed her hand and draped her arm over his shoulders. “Come on. Up.” The urgency in his voice was demanding. She couldn’t refuse to obey, even though all her body wanted to do was slide back down to the wet ground. Her feet slipped in the mud and her legs trembled, but together the two of them got upright and moving slowly. 

“I’ve got scan docs, we can find a clinic—“

“No!” She shook her head, knocking it against his chest. “Ship.” They had to get out of here first; they could worry about her later. If the first aid medkit on board couldn’t handle whatever was wrong with her on the way, they’d be able to treat her on base. She refused to consider any other option.

The street dropped out from under her feet and she stumbled. Cassian hauled her up, cursing in Aqualish with a surprisingly good accent. “We won’t make it to the ship unless you can walk across the bridge. I can’t carry you the whole way there.” 

He was full of shit. She was fine. Really she was. She just needed a moment to shake this off. The darkness around her swept in until she couldn’t see anything. She stumbled again and Cassian’s voice was in her ear, his mouth pressed close. “Come on. Keep moving. I’ll hold you up, just keep going.” 

Jyn did as he asked because she always would, no matter what, although at this point it was smarter for him to leave her behind. She tried to tell him just that, to demand that he drop her and come back.

“Be quiet. I’m not leaving you behind.” His voice was tight and angry. “Especially since I don’t know if we have any more friends following us.”

“Where’r we going, then? Any bright ideas?” Her voice was too loud in her own ears, slurred. Maybe if she made him think about how stupid this was, he’d come around to the decision on his own. She wouldn’t make it to the ship like this. 

“Hang on to me and save your breath,” Cassian ordered. 

As much as she didn’t want to, she had to. Whatever that asshole had stuck her with, either it had been enough to take down a wampa, or she was having a bad reaction. Her chest was on fire, flushed with heat, and her face felt hot and sweaty. The ends of her fingers were tingling and her feet were numb, with the lack of sensation slowly crawling up her legs. 

“No, no, she’s fine.” Cassian’s voice sounded far away, even though he was holding her tight—holding her up, really, with the arm wrapped around her waist. “Just a little too much to drink. I’m taking her straight home.”

Of course, the one time anyone had questions about whether a disoriented person was okay was when she didn’t want them poking their nose in. Jyn’s eyes wouldn’t focus but she forced a smile for the benefit of the guard. “S’all good.”

Her response must have seemed coherent enough because the guard moved away to the gatehouse and lifted the bar, thankfully. 

Cassian’s arm tightened around her even more and he bent to nuzzle her ear, the picture of an amorous drunk. He was good at becoming the amiable idiot, hiding any hint of danger behind a clueless façade and erasing suspicion with a smile. “Just half a klick or so over the bridge. Can you make it?” His voice was tense and strained. 

Jyn didn’t waste energy trying to speak; she wasn’t sure she could, anyway, her tongue felt thick and useless. She bobbed her head, and Cassian might have grazed her forehead with a kiss or maybe it was just an accident.

The cold wind and rain sweeping down the gorge and over the bridge revived her, briefly. She forced her muscles to keep moving. She could barely see. All the lights along the way flared into fuzzy nebulae and Cassian’s face was an impenetrable blur of shadow as he looked down at her. Was he worried, or wondering what he’d done to deserve being saddled with a partner who couldn’t even take care of herself?

Her brain was slowly rotating inside her skull now, nauseating her, and every step sent a shock of pain up her spine. She couldn’t tell how much of the sticky wetness seeping through her pants was mud and how much was blood from the shallow wound on her thigh. She wouldn’t be able to keep going much longer. She clung to Cassian and went on, grimly.

She couldn’t hold her head upright. It flopped down against Cassian’s chest and she could smell his body, the scent she would always remember. It told her that she was safe. She knew she wasn’t, but she couldn’t help relaxing into him.

“You can’t go much farther,” he muttered, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself. He changed course suddenly, pivoting to one side. The change in direction made Jyn stumble, but he held on and she didn’t fall to the ground. 

The wind and rain stopped. Flickering light overhead made her wince and turn her head into Cassian’s jacket to hide her eyes. A short muttered conversation between him and someone with a whistling voice. The rattle of credit chips being dropped on a counter, maybe. 

And then Cassian was hauling her over to a repulsor lift so old that it used a mechanical pod instead of an antigrav platform. The thing shuddered as it hauled them up a short distance and bumped to a stop, but it worked. 

Another creaking door, a dark room. Jyn was spent; Cassian had to practically carry her the last three steps over to a hard sleeping platform. She collapsed onto the blankets with a whimper barely held between her teeth. 

Cassian knelt to yank off her muddy boots. She couldn’t lift her arms, but she wanted to run her hands through his hair. His position brought back a painfully vivid memory of him smiling teasingly at her, tracing circles on her knees while she growled and told him to hurry up, dammit…

This stuff was making her stupid and maudlin as well as feverish. She closed her mouth firmly, biting her lip, and swore she wouldn’t talk for the next couple of hours or however long it lasted.

Jyn was determined not to let her pain or guilt show. It was no-one else’s business, even though everyone else in Rogue One would have to be idiots not to realize what had happened. But the fact that Chirrut and Baze— _and_ Bodhi, oh Force—that all of them knew exactly how devastated she was didn’t mean she had to let on to any other soul in the Rebellion how she felt. 

So she didn’t do any of the things ex-lovers were supposed to do. She didn’t get sloppy drunk, she didn’t flirt with or fuck anyone else in an attempt to make Cassian jealous (as if that would work anyway). 

The worst part was that Cassian wouldn’t even lash out at her. If he had, she could have responded in kind, using his cutting words to convince herself that they were equally at fault. Instead, he retreated into a quiet, self-contained shell, and so her own anger at him couldn’t build into a cleansing fury. It coiled inward around her heart and she cursed herself for the stupidity of falling in love with him. Was it ever reciprocal? His cold reaction made her doubt it. Maybe he just took the path of least resistance and accepted her affection because she so clearly needed to give it. 

She found herself crying only once, when she was alone in the armoury with Baze. He thumped her back in a heavy rhythm until she stopped gulping down tears and handed her an oily rag so she could blow her nose. Then he dropped the massive barrel of his repeating cannon on the workbench in front of her. 

The two of them cleaned and polished it together in silence, sitting side by side, and that made her feel better than anything else had—just his solid, undemanding presence. Before she left, she leaned her head briefly against his thick shoulder, and he patted her arm.

“I’m sorry.” The words hurt her throat but her voice sounded small and weak. 

So much for Jyn’s promise to herself that she’d shut up. But she had to say it. It was important that she tell Cassian… what? And where had he gone? She tried to turn her head and look for him but the motion hurt her neck. The surface she was lying on dipped and swayed alarmingly, and she couldn’t see Cassian but there were bright reflective eyes in the corner of the room—something watching her.

The light was too loud. Jyn could hear it humming through her skull. It wobbled in a sickening way when she tried to keep her eyes open. It stabbed through her eyelids even when they were squeezed tightly shut. It wouldn’t let her sleep, but she was so tired... 

And hot. It was too hot. She turned over restlessly. She wanted to cry out, but she knew she couldn’t. She pushed her fist against her mouth and bit her knuckles to stay quiet. 

“No, no, don’t…” Cassian sounded anxious. What was wrong? Why was he worried? She reached out with her other hand, straining toward his voice. Her fingertips barely brushed across his beard and were suddenly taken in a warm grip and pulled away. 

“Shhh.” He bent over her, holding her hand to his chest. “It’s just the fever.” 

Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, running into her hair. “I’m sorry. Really. I had to do it, though… it was important.” She felt like a fool but she couldn’t stop talking; she had to make Cassian understand somehow. “I know you’ll never trust me again, I know…” One tiny sob escaped her.

Cassian lay down beside her and wrapped his arms around her. He rubbed her back and whispered into her ear. “Shh, love, save your strength. Don’t talk.”

Oh, right, they couldn’t talk. Because they weren’t safe. They were hiding somewhere no one was supposed to be able to find them. She nodded against his chest. “I’ll be quiet…”

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m here.” Jyn curled on her side, grasping at his shirt so he couldn’t leave. Cassian pushed her hair away from her sweaty forehead and neck and she sighed with relief. The sound of his heartbeat under her ear, rapid but steady and reliable, followed her into tangled dreams.

When she woke, it was so dark she wasn’t sure if she was blindfolded. Her heavy bones ached, holding her down to the bed like double-gee acceleration, and her skin was sticky with dried sweat, but she wasn’t burning with pain any more. She fought down her panic, and breathed, and strained her eyes until she could see: faint outlines of light marking a door and window, a slightly paler blackness where those cracks of light fell.

She was on a low sleeping platform. Not alone. Cassian was beside her, lightly asleep—she still recognized the rhythm of his sleeping breath. She retraced her memories as far as she could, remembered what had happened in fragments with sharp edges. The fight. Lying on the ground gasping for breath. The bridge guard. A cold cloth dripping on her forehead. Telling Cassian she was sorry.

Another wave of heat poured over her, but this one was only humiliation, not fever. She gritted her teeth until it passed, and wished she didn’t have to speak to Cassian ever again. If only she could send him a text message via comm when necessary.

There was sticky mud plastered in her hair. She grimaced and considered getting up to look for the fresher, or wherever he’d gotten the cold water from. But as desperately as she wanted to get clean, she wasn’t sure she could stand up without help yet. Better to wait.

The pattern of Cassian’s soft breathing changed, interrupted by a longer inhalation, and she knew he was waking up. She could close her eyes and stay perfectly still, hoping he’d not notice she was awake, but that would only delay the inevitable. 

“Cassian?” she breathed out. 

“Jyn?” He turned toward her, blankets rustling. “Do you know where you are?”

She coughed to clear her throat. “Still on Rishi, I’m guessing. Otherwise, no clue.”

The tension drained out of him with a long, relieved sigh. “Cheap rooming house on the spaceport side of the bridge.”

He stood up and she heard him move unerringly through the darkness to the corner of the room, then the sound of flowing water. A moment later, he sat on the edge of the platform, took her hand and folded it around a metal cup. She lifted her head and drank greedily until she couldn’t keep up and water dribbled down her chin. She coughed again and wiped her mouth with the back of her other hand. “Is the lockdown over?”

“Not yet. A couple more hours, I think.” He took the empty cup back and set it down on the floor. He took a deep breath. “You kept apologizing last night. You wouldn’t stop.”

So they were doing this after all. Well, maybe it was best to get it over with. But at least she was going to sit up. Arms shaking, she pushed up on her elbows and Cassian’s palm pressed between her shoulderblades, supporting her until she found her balance and could shrug him off. Her chin dropped toward her chest and she mumbled, “I know. I was feverish, but I meant it.” 

“Just tell me why you did it,” he whispered. In the dark, his voice was all she knew of him; that and the lean strength of his thigh alongside hers. She shifted, turning to face him. There was still so little light that his profile was only a slightly darker silhouette against the blackness. Maybe that would make it easier to talk, if she didn’t have to see him.

“You _know_ why.” Her thin voice cracked. “You weren’t ready, and I couldn’t stand by and watch you go before you were.”

“No. Why did you just leave after that, without a word?”

Jyn’s head reeled as everything she thought she knew shifted and fell out from under her. Was he trying to say that it would have made a difference? Impossible. But two could damn well play that interrogation game. “If you wanted me to stay—” her voice cracked horribly and she fought to continue— “why did you let me go without saying anything?”

“I was ashamed, Jyn. You’d seen how weak I was, and you’d told Draven about it. I was angry. And obstinate. I told myself you ought to give in first.” A brief pause, and then both of them let out a small snort at how unlikely that scenario was.

“I wish I had.” She bit her lip and gathered her courage. “I was a coward. I ran away because it was easier than knowing you’d be angry at me, and I deserved it.” 

“You were right—”

“I know I was, but that doesn’t change that the way I did it was wrong. And then I was too scared to try and make it right.” She swallowed around a heavy lump of regret. “Is it too late?”

Cassian’s hand found hers again, weaving their fingers together in a firm grip. “I hope not.” 

“Then let’s start again. Please.” She leaned forward and cupped her other hand around Cassian’s cheek, tipping his head down until she could rest her forehead against his. Their lips were barely apart; each breath of theirs mingled. All it would take to change the tableau into a kiss was a tiny motion of her head. But she hesitated, still half-unsure.

She let her hand slip down Cassian’s neck and stroked her thumb over the soft hollow of his jaw where his pulse raced. She could feel her own heart shaking her ribcage and her mouth was dry with want. _Be brave, Jyn._

She lifted her chin and brought her mouth up, but Cassian was already halfway there, bending his head to meet her. His other hand went up to hold the back of her neck, pulling her closer. She leaned into him, pressing her whole body more heavily on his, and he supported her, letting her weight settle into him with ease. 

She’d forgotten how amazing a kiss could be. Cassian’s lips slowly found their way to her neck, and Jyn’s head dropped back, her filthy hair trailing down her back. 

“...I smell awful,” she realized. 

“You do.” Cassian only pressed his nose deeper into the crook of her neck, his mouth warm and gentle on the small scabbed-over mark on her throat. “And I don’t care.”

She laughed in pure joy and held him tighter, feeling his smile against her skin.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story using this kind of flashback structure, so I’d be interested in hearing opinions on how it works...


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